Killer Bet
by elisa-didlittle
Summary: Why Educators should not indulge in the sin of gambling. Slightly AU. 5th Year, I guess.


Harry Potter had done the Impossible. while ostensibly his team's seeker, he had seen a quaffle coming low and from the side arcing and spinning around all his teams chasers. None of them could stop it's flight and get possession as it streaked its way for the Gryffindor hoops. The keeper was way off position, and hadn't a prayer of blocking it in time.

So Harry pulled another Impossibility out of his hat. He flew down in an inside loop, accelerating sharply, letting go of his broom and continuing to fly up into the sky broom-less, while his broom floated stationary below him. Harry raised his arms as he approached his rendezvous with the incoming quaffle. With his hands poised, Harry knocked the approaching quaffle out of it's flight plan, sending it careening back towards the Slytherin goalpost. He could already see Katie drop down from above and take possession as she flew Hawkshead towards her next goal.

Harry had already reached zenith and was slowly falling back to Earth again when Goyle decided that this latest outrage of Gryffindor talent could not go unanswered. He hit both bludgers in succession so as to break either Harry's leg or his shoulder; he didn't really care which as long as Potter was out of the game and hopefully out of Quiddich for good.

Harry saw the two bludgers coming in on slightly different vectors. He already knew this would be a bit of a tight squeeze. Inverting his descent, he fell vertically head first towards the ground, arms extended. He quickly grasped at his stationary broom, breaking his fall and using his momentum to slingshot around the broom like a gymnast on the horizontal bar, kicking out with both feet at the first approaching bludger, deflecting it from its path and into a grinning Slytherin chaser, who wasn't grinning anymore as he fell injured to the ground five storeys below.

Harry saw the second bludger coming right for him, and a brief flash of gold off to the side. He fell back down towards the broom and slingshotted back up, this time tucked into a tight somersault position and somersaulted around where the bludger would have impacted him. When Harry descended back to his broom, he remounted it, flew up to where he had briefly spied the snitch and grabbed it only seconds after. He raised his arm with the snitch grasped firmly in his hand, ending the game seconds before the second bludger would smash into Crabbe's surprised face.

The crowd in the bleachers just sat gobsmacked at witnessing flying on a level never before imagined. They forgot the game, which was 410-120 Gryffindor, as they tried to process what might have been the most beautiful and elegant play in the history of the sport. In future years, Quidditch historians would call the first maneuver the "Skywalker Pass," the second the "Potter Sling," and the third the "Evasive Gymnast," just 3 out of the 427 Quidditch plays invented extemporaneously by Harry Potter throughout his legendary Quidditch career.

An hour after Harry had returned the snitch and been carried off the pitch by his over-awed team mates, Professors McGongall and Snape were sitting in the Staff Lounge, Snape licking his imagined wounds while McGonagall crowed triumphantly. Snape thought for sure that his plan to cripple Potter and win the match would be successful.

He scowled at the thought. He had lost much time and gold waiting for his Slytherin alums in the League to create a suitably brutal way to neuter Potter while snatching his victory from the filthy mudblood braggart. And now, after all that hard work and planning, to have his perfect revenge on the bastard Potters stolen from him while increasing the cretin's already titanic ego was particularly galling. His only saving grace was that this was only a Hogwarts game. Only the students had actually seen the play. Snape could just imagine the worship and adulation the Potter-spawn would receive if the wizarding populace had ever seen that play.

It was truly unfortunate then that Robilleus Flodger was recording the game with his omnoculars while on a scouting mission for the Tornados. 12 hours later the "Catch of the Century" would be plastered on the front page of every wizarding newspaper in the world and the name "Harry Potter" would be on everyones's lips as _Britain's Only Hope_ to win the World Cup in '98.

For now, McGonagall was speaking. "Hah! That guilded play you bought didn't even leave a scratch. You're going to have to try harder if you want to kill Potter. And certainly if you want to kill him at the moment he loses his first game to Slytherin. I know that's your fondest dream. Something to keep you warm at night," McGonagall teased.

Snape grumbled. "Admittedly, killing the Hell-brat while he realizes he lost his first game to Mr Malfoy would be very sweet. But I'd settle for permanently crippling or disfiguring the arrogant whelp." Harry heard his most hated professor admit.

McGonagall laughed. "You'll certainly have to do much better than today's humiliation. However, since I'm in a sporing mood-"

"With my hundred galleons!" Snape interrupted.

"Hem hem!" the grey haired professor thundered. "Since I'm in a sporting mood, I'll spot you the hundred galleons. Double or nothing. Kill or permanently cripple Potter-"

"Damn straight!" Snape interrupted again.

"Hem hem! Kill or permanently cripple Potter while game is in play: 100 galleons. Kill him while he loses the snitch to Mr Malfoy: 200 galleons. Make it look like he killed himself pulling one of his fool stunts: 400 galleons. What do you say?"

"Hmm, " Snape mused. "400 galleons to make him look incompetent _and_ arrogant. That would be something."

Minerva sipped her scotch. "I thought you might appreciate the irony of that one."

"It certainly does appeal to my more Slytherin nature," Snape agreed.

Harry turned away from the Staff Lounge, all thoughts of their victory party and McGonagall's invitation long gone. Face purpling and a truly evil glint shining in his green eyes, Harry envisioned a different future.

'Wagering on my death or disfigurement, eh? I know something of death in the classroom. Yes, I do have a certain _flair_ for _staff terminations_. And the Twins love a good wager,' Harry mused to himself. And clearly he owed his professors some extra attention.

What happened next was one of the better entries never mentioned in the annals of Hogwarts Prankdom. Take two evil professors, one bottle of exceptional Scotch single malt (stolen from Minerva), one phial Draught of Rage (stolen from Snape) mixed into that exceptional Scotch single malt, two Slytherin beater's bats (_borrowed_ by Harry), one Juicy Goosie hex (cast by George) and mix.

After George hit his Head of House with a particularly juicy Goosie as Snape passed by, the enraged Highlander reached for the nearest blunt object to make her objections known. And after a few minutes of venting her ire on a prone professor's dangly and bruised bits, she decided she was an equal opportunity bitch and then started to wallop him about the head and face. As a last defense, the former Deatheater grabbed the nearest other blunt object and showed the Scots-woman how they used to do things in the Inner Circle. After Snape knocked her about and made sure that she'd never conceive (well, in addition to her being 110 years old and not likely to conceive anyway) the two rival professors proceeded to bludgeon each other to an early but unlamented demise in the Staff Lounge. A few hours later when Dumbledore found their bloody bodies, he pondered the odds of finding 3 new professors for the next year.

#######

Harry left Hogwarts that year, feeling that the school might have been a bit too violent for his tastes. But he and the Twins embarked on a truly spectacular career in Quidditch playing for Puddlemere United and for England. The Twins christened him a new nickname which had nothing to do with an animagus form, or being a war hero, or anything really. Just one of those names that stuck, it seemed. All through his sports career, his subsequent Ministry career, and his last (and very successful) career in the Wizengamot, friends, enemies and sports fans for centuries to come would always call Harry Potter, _Killer_.


End file.
